


In Case the Scene Gets Nasty

by sohox



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Bruises, Fighting, M/M, Masturbation, Pain Kink, Yelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 17:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20951945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohox/pseuds/sohox
Summary: “I-I’m done with this today,” Link cried, finally, his voice was shaking, his hands were shaking. He’s knees felt like they could barely support his weight as he pitched forward toward the door.As he passed Rhett, the taller man shot out a hand, gripping Link’s wrist with a sharp, painful squeeze. His voice dropped low, dangerous. “We’re not done with this conversation, Link. You don’t get to decide when it’s over like this, as much as you like to think you’re in charge here.





	In Case the Scene Gets Nasty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainsourwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsourwolf/gifts).

> Elizabeth (captainsourwolf) prompted me on tumblr with 'Bruises'. 
> 
> Please mind the tags

They’re fighting again. They’re not even trying to be discreet about it any more. No more heated whispers on set, dripping with venom. No more little digs at each other when the cameras are rolling, punctuated with an eye roll or a kick to the shin under the table. No, they’ve progressed beyond that, to a point where a lot of their crew members, save for maybe Stevie, have never seen them pass. The tension between them is thick and stifling, it feels like its clawing at Link’s throat, making it harder to breathe when Rhett is around. 

This fight is one for the books. Link can barely even remember what started it, just that it was Friday, and even though most of the crew had already left for the weekend, they’ve hidden themselves in their office, Rhett’s deep baritone voice shaking the walls every time he slings insults toward Link, standing between him and the door. There’s nothing but blind fury radiating through Link’s body right now, coursing through him like a current. He’s entire body is on fire with it. He needs to get out of this room before he does something embarrassing like cry. As hot tempered and quick to get riled up as he is, he’s never been good at fighting with Rhett. Rhett, who never has a mean word to say to anyone. He’s so even tempered, he barely yells in traffic. No, only Link can get to him this way. Link used to think nothing could shake them, but lately? Lately it felt like the fire was going to eat him alive.

“I-I’m done with this today,” Link cried, finally, his voice was shaking, his hands were shaking. He’s knees felt like they could barely support his weight as he pitched forward toward the door. 

As he passed Rhett, the taller man shot out a hand, gripping Link’s wrist with a sharp, painful squeeze. His voice dropped low, dangerous. “We’re not done with this conversation, Link. You don’t get to decide when it’s over like this, as much as you like to think you’re in charge here.

Link struggled to pull his wrist out of his grasp, jerking his arm back hard. “ _ Rhett,  _ you’re  _ hurting _ me.” It was exactly the right thing to say. Rhett’s eyebrows shot up and he dropped his hand quickly, as if Link had burned him. It happens so fast that Link stumbles toward the door, ripping it open and he all but runs out, ignoring Stevie’s cries after him

\--

By Sunday night, the bruise on his wrist is still there. It’s a muddy mix of purple and yellow staining his skin in the perfect outline of two long fingers. Link can’t stop staring at it. It’s fascinating, the way his wrist bones contorted the colors. While he was driving, his eyes would wander to it, lingering there while heat pooled low in his belly. He kept stealing glances at it. Kept pressing it against hard surfaces to feel the delicious bite again. 

He’s laying in bed alone when Rhett texts him a single line, ‘_I’m sorry’, _and he feels the ache in his wrist at the words. He grasps it with his other hand, lining his fingers up to match the fading marks, squeezing hard enough to feel a ghost of the twinge from when Rhett held him captive for that brief moment. He squeezes again, feeling that sensation shoot straight to his cock. It wasn’t quite unexpected, the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

He unlocks his phone, aims the camera at his wrist, snaps a photo. ‘ _ You should be _ ’, he sends back, photo attached. In real life, it had already started to fade a little, but the contrast of the discoloration against his tan skin was even more predominant in the picture. It looks nasty, violent. It looks the way Rhett’s voice had sounded in that room. Full of malice.

Link grips his wrist again, squeezing harder, screwing his eyes shut and holding his breath. The sting hurts  _ so _ good. He can feel his cock swelling in his pants. His phone buzzes again.

_ ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I’d grabbed you that hard. Why didn’t you tell me.’ _

_ “Fuck,”  _ he swears, bucking his hips up against nothing. 

_ ‘I don’t want your apology McLaughlin.’ _

‘ _ Link’  _

Link drops the phone on the bed next to him and palms his cock through his pants, stroking over it through the rough denim. He can feel a horrible flush flooding into this face, over his throat. He pops open the button, drags the zipper down, giving his aching cock some relief from it’s tight confines. By the time he gets it all the way out, the head is already shiny with precum, leaking wetly, making the slide of his palm smooth as he works his cock over. He wishes Rhett was there to hold his wrist again, pin it down against the mattress, squeeze his bones together the way he is squeezing his cock. 

The phone buzzes again, a call this time. It’s Rhett, of course. He has half a mind to answer, to force him to listen. To hear Rhett’s honeyed voice in his ears as he tortures himself with long slow strokes. His blood is buzzing with heat, imagining how Rhett would apologize to him if he did answer, his hips stuttering up into his waiting palm. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, he can feel pin pricks forming behind his eyes. He’s s still embarrassed, angry, not ready yet to forgive. His cock is straining hard, pulsing in the grip of his uninjured hand. 

Link moves his other hand up, close to his face, staring into the muddled purple bruise, breath quickening. He brings it to his mouth, fitting his lips around it and sucking hard. The sore flesh stings at the sensation, not quite as good, but enough. He sucks harder, fucking up into his tight fist, crying around the flesh in his mouth. Finally, right as his body gives in, he sinks his teeth into the muscle and tendon, tongue lapping at where he knew the bruise would be. His whole body shakes, violently, spasming harder than he’d ever made himself cum before, thick white streaks pumping out onto his fist. 

As his body comes down, adrenaline leveling out, he feels a rush of calm wash over him. The anger and embarrassment from before dissipating rapidly. 

_ ‘Link, please. Answer me.’  _ His phone lights up again.  _ ‘Its okay if you don't forgive me, but I need you to know I’d never mean to hurt you. I’ll never do that again.’ _

Link laughs out loud, hoping like hell his friend won’t keep that promise. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Liking, Commenting and Subscribing. You know what time it is!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ lighterheadheavyheart.tumblr.com


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